Steve of the Rings
by Keith Fraser
Summary: A fanfic writer gets more than he bargained for when he inserts his alter-ego, Steve Steel, into The Lord of the Rings: an instant message from Melkor offering to make his fic real. Parody of Mary Sue/Marty Stu fics.
1. Prologue: Concerning Steve

**Disclaimer:** Characters, concepts etc. are the property of the Tolkien family, New Line Cinema, _et al_. No copyright infringement is intended.

**The Awesome Adventures of Steve Steel:**

**Steve of the Rings**

**Prologue: Concerning Steve**

"Steven?! Are you cleaning your room like I told you?"

"Sure thing, mom!"

Steve (he hated his full name, which only parents and teachers and other uncool people used) casually raised his middle finger to his bedroom door and the nagging voice on the other side, then returned his attention to his computer screen. He was working on a new fanfic project: a retelling of _The Lord of the Rings _with some improvements of his own. He hadn't particularly enjoyed those movies - they were way too long and slow - but lots of the other kids at school couldn't shut up about them. Especially the girls, who were all gaga over that blond elf dude (Steve had spent the first movie thinking the guy was a girl, which still made him slightly uncomfortable), or the wimpy midget hero, or the unshaven guy who was in love with Liv Tyler. It drove him up the wall, and he couldn't get away from it on the Internet either - everywhere on MySpace and the fanfic discussion sites he hung out on, he saw pictures of the same stupid characters and flowery declarations of love from fangirls.

Therefore, he had decided to get his revenge by writing his fanfic alter ego, Steve Steel, into the story of _Lord of the Rings_ and showing how much better the whole thing could be. He had seen lots of similar fanfics already, but they were mostly about girls going to Middle-Earth and getting it on with Leggo-lass, or whoever. No-one seemed to have considered writing in a real man like Steve Steel. He could easily kick more ass than a gay elf, a midget and an old guy in a dress put together, and unlike that Argon dude, he would know better than to pass up the opportunity to nail two hot warrior chicks instead of just one!

Steve had spent the last few hours re-reading his other Steve Steel fanfics, including _Neon Genesis Stevangelion_, _Steve Steel Meets The Sailor Scout Girls_, _Steve Steel vs. Godzilla_, _Steve Steel Goes To Hogwarts_, _Gundam Steve_, _The Matrix Stevolutions_ and his crowning moment of awesome, _Steve Steel Beats Up Everyone_. With his masterpieces fresh in his mind, he now had plenty of ideas for his new fic. Satisfied that he was ready to start, Steve cracked his knuckles, opened a new word processor window and began to type.

***

The fellowship were climbing yet another mountain and everyone was complaining about the cold and wind. "hey gandalf are we there yet??" asked Pippin. "Shut up Peragrin Took!" said Gandalf.

Suddenly over fifty orcs jumped out of hiding and started shouting arrows at the fellowship. Leglas got hit in the eye and fell off a cliff screaming like a girl. Frodo was hit twice in the back and fell over bleeding to death. The other hobbits ran away crying. An orc came over to take the ring from Frodo's body, but its head exploded before it could do it and blood went everywhere. Some more orcs ran up but all their heads were cut off too fast to see.

A huge motorbike screeched to a halt and the man in black riding it fired his pistol lots of times, mowing down more orcs. One tried to jump him from behind but he stabbed it with his samurai sword. Its heart was pierced and it died. The rest of the orcs tried to run but Boromir and Argon and Gandalf killed them. The man on the motorbike picked up the ring from Frodo's body.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" asked Gandalf. "I'm Steve Steel," said the man, "and I'm here to kick ass and find love...and I'm all outta love. Oh, and I'm the ringbearer now."

**Original Character Profile **(for if you haven't read my other fics – why not huh??)

**Name: **Steve Steel

**Titles: **Slayer of Tabris, Knight of Earth, Head Boy of Hogwarts, The Second, Ultimate Fighting Champion of the Universe

**Age: **19

**Description: **Steve is 6 foot 5 with icy blue eyes and spiked black hair, really well built but fast, when he grins all the girls go wild

**Personality: **Tough, brave and chivalrus. Has a temper which gets him into trouble a lot, but luckily hes also good at getting out of trouble

**Equipment: **A dimenson jumping motorbike, two Desert Eagle pistols, a 20,000 year old samurai sword, a notebook full of girls phone numbers

**Backstory: **A warrior, lover and dimension traveller. Comes to Middle-Earth to take the Ring of Power for himself. Will fall in love with Arwin and Eowin and make them his queens when he becomes ruler of the world.

***

Steve looked over what he had written so far and saw that it was good, so he posted it on his blog, then decided to rest for a while. He turned on some Evanescence and went looking for _Battlestar Galactica _porn on DeviantArt. He was enjoying some interesting photomanips of Boomer and Number Six when his instant messaging program beeped. He didn't recognize the name of the person trying to contact him – Lord_Of_Arda. Curious, he opened a dialogue window.

Solid_Steve: Hey d00d

Lord_Of_Arda: Greetings, mortal.

Solid_Steve: lolwut??

Lord_Of_Arda: I have a proposition for you.

Solid_Steve: sorry d00d, i dont swing that way

Lord_Of_Arda: I have noted your intent to change the history of Middle-Earth.

Solid_Steve: huh?

Solid_Steve: o u mean my fic?

Lord_Of_Arda: Your language is hard to understand. Speak more clearly or suffer my wrath.

Solid_Steve: Chill, dude.

Lord_Of_Arda: You desire to make the tale of the Ring of Power more suited to your tastes by introducing your personal avatar, yes?

Solid_Steve: Um, yeah. I guess.

Lord_Of_Arda: What would you say if I told you I could make the story you desire...

Lord_Of_Arda: Real?

Solid_Steve: What, like a fanvid?

Lord_Of_Arda: No. I can send you across space and time in the form of your avatar, allowing you to personally alter the course of events.

Solid_Steve: Huh?

Lord_Of_Arda: In simple terms: you will be transported to Middle-Earth before the Ring of Power sets forth from Rivendell, and you will possess all the powers of Steve Steel.

Lord_Of_Arda: Is this not something you desire?

Solid_Steve: Well...yeah, that sounds cool and all, but...you know none of that stuff is real, right, dude?

Solid_Steve: I think you need to either stop taking whatever it is you're on or take a whole lot more of it, if you know what i mean?

Lord_Of_Arda: Speak my name and you shall know the truth of my words.

Solid_Steve: Uh, whatever. Lord_Of_Arda.

Lord_Of_Arda: Speak my true name aloud, fool!

Solid_Steve: O....K.... What's your true name, then?

Lord_Of_Arda: Clearly you are not as familiar with the annals of Arda as I had thought.

Lord_Of_Arda: My true name is Melkor. Speak it aloud and all will be clear to you.

Steve shook his head at the screen, chuckling to himself. This guy was totally nuts, but at least he was funny. Clearing his throat grandly, he called out the name on the screen. "Mell-core! Gesundheit!" He laughed momentarily at his own joke, then stopped abruptly as something very strange started happening. The walls of his room seemed to be melting away, leaving him floating in the centre of a featureless black void lit only by the monitor and desk lamp. Something moved at the corner of his eye; he swivelled his chair to look at it and promptly fell off.

"GREETINGS, STEVE THE SOLID."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Floating in the void above him was a terrifying figure, several times his own size. It was encased in battered black armour studded with jewels, and bound hand and foot with a single massive chain. Wounds and scars were visible all over its body – its hands were withered, burnt claws, its forehead scorched in a regular pattern as if it had been wearing a red-hot metal crown. Its eyes burned with a fierce, malevolent light through the pattern of scars that raked across its face.

"I AM MELKOR. YOU ARE NOW MY SERVANT."

"Uh...w-whatever you say, um...sir?

"EXCELLENT. ALL I REQUIRE OF YOU IS THAT YOU FOLLOW YOUR HEART'S DESIRE. WHEN YOU SLEEP TONIGHT YOU SHALL BE TRANSPORTED TO MIDDLE-EARTH IN THE FORM YOU HAVE DEVISED. YOU SHALL TAKE THE RING OF POWER FOR YOURSELF AND DO AS YOU PLEASE WITH IT. DO NOT FAIL."

The figure and the void vanished abruptly, leaving Steve sitting on the floor of his room, breathing heavily and sweating profusely.

"Steven? Who are you talking to in there?"

"No-one, mom!" Steve yelled, picking himself up.

"Do you have a girl in there?"

"No!" _I wish,_ Steve thought. _Then again, maybe soon..._

"Then what was all that noise?"

_God, just shut up._ "Just talking in my sleep!"

"Sleep? I thought you were cleaning your room?"

Steve declined to answer that, instead opting to swear profusely under his breath.

"Steven? You aren't...touching yourself, are you?"

"MOM!"

For once, lights-out time couldn't come too early for Steve. This was going to be so awesome! He had no clue who or what that Melkor guy was, but given what he'd seen him do, it seemed pretty likely he could deliver on his promise. He drifted off to sleep thinking of guns and hot elf chicks.

***

Steve Steel rode out of thin air and up the road from the Brandywine Bridge to Bree at 150mph on his gleaming black and chrome magic-powered motorbike, the wind ruffling his raven hair and blowing the tails of his black leather trenchcoat behind him. Underneath it he wore a tight black t-shirt and jeans, displaying his godlike physique. The sun glinted off the grips of the twin Desert Eagle pistols (taken from the corpse of a computer program named Smith) holstered on his belt, and the hilts of the ancient katana and wakizashi on his back (his rightful prize as victor of the Ultimate Interdimensional Fighting Championship). He lowered ultra-sharp sunglasses (a token of affection from a female giant robot pilot he had rescued and swept off her feet) from his ice-blue eyes to cast a cool and appraising gaze across the landscape. Somewhere out there was the Ring of Power, which would make him even more awesome than he already was.

Sure, the temptations of so much power were dangerous, but danger was what he thrived on. His world-hopping adventures to date had been rewarding in every way: he had slain monsters and tyrants, saved cities and planets, enriched himself with treasure and won the affection of beautiful women in a dozen dimensions. So numerous were his exploits, in fact, that he barely remembered how he had started out. He had vague memories of an insignificant life on an insignificant world, but they rarely troubled him any more, and why should they? He had gone far beyond such humble beginnings.

Steve's motorbike roared into Bree in a cloud of dust. The astonished gatewarden was knocked off his feet by the wind of his passage and left gaping after him, blinking dust from his eyes. Steve screeched to a halt in front of the Prancing Pony and waved to a hobbit he had just showered with mud from an inconveniently placed puddle.

"Hey there little dude! Which way to Rivendale?"

***

In the Void beyond Arda, Melkor chuckled. Atop his tower in Mordor, Sauron smiled. Across Middle-Earth, the Wise felt a disturbance, and their hearts were troubled by they knew not what.

Steve Steel had arrived. And the world trembled.

**STEVE STEEL WILL RETURN IN **

"**THE COUNCIL OF STEVE"**


	2. Chapter 1: The Council of Steve

**Disclaimer:** Characters, concepts etc. are the property of the Tolkien family, New Line Cinema, _et al_. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Warnings: **This chapter contains mangled Elvish (added by special request), level 7 Marty Stu grandstanding, and a bit of good old-fashioned sex and violence.

**The Awesome Adventures of Steve Steel: Steve of the Rings**

**Chapter 1: The Council of Steve**

"So I just follow this road out of town, and it goes straight east to the Ford of Browning?" Steve asked, looking again at the map Aragorna had drawn for him. "Wow, that's pretty easy."

"That's right," nodded the flame-haired Ranger. "Just watch out _here_-" She leaned over the table, providing Steve with an excellent view of the contents of her partially-unlaced jerkin. "-between the Last Bridge and the Ford. The road is in pretty bad repair where it runs through the Trollshaws, so it's easy to get lost."

"Trollshores? I'm guessing I might run into some trolls there, huh?"

"Indeed. Something tells me you would welcome that, though. You are the kind of man for whom danger is meat and drink." Aragorna idly ran her hand down Steve's bare chest (he had thrown on his trenchcoat against the morning chill when he went out to the well, without bothering to put his T-shirt on first).

"Damn straight. But that ain't all I like to eat an' drink, babe, if ya know what I mean." Steve smirked, receiving an answering grin from Aragorna, and they shared a lingering kiss. She then got up and went over to the stove, wiggling her tightly-clad hips for his gaze.

It had been a stroke of luck running into this chick in the bar last night – no-one else had been any use at giving him directions. Anyone would think there was some huge difference between 'Rivendale' and 'Rivendell'! He had spent two days stuck in mud after being sent to Rivendale, which turned out to be a ruined farm on the other side of a swamp. He was pretty sure those hobbits had steered him wrong on purpose; they did seem to be awful touchy about being called "little dude". Not that the regular-sized people were much better. They kept stepping on the hem of his trenchcoat, they smelled funny (he suspected they didn't shower very often), and their "weed" was very disappointing.

Luckily, someone in this dimension had some sense, and a few other very nice things besides, such as a snug cottage with a comfortable bed, and deliciously warm, soft-

"Muffins, Steve?"

"Don't mind if I do, babe." Steve took the proffered plate with his trademark grin, which caused Aragorna's face to turn the same colour as her hair. Yes, Steve thought, Bree wasn't so bad after all.

***

He was glad to have such pleasant memories to sustain him two days later as he crouched, swearing, over his makeshift campfire with rain dripping down the back of his neck. He had brought a portable waterproof tent along in his bike's saddlebags, but there was nowhere to plug in the built-in heater. Last night's fire, created with some help from a small amount of napalm extracted from one of his incendiary grenades, had been pleasantly warming, but it had gotten a little out of control and burned down most of the patch of woodland he had been camping in, nearly taking him with it, so he was reduced to fiddling about with twigs, grass and his cigarette lighter.

The sound of a branch snapping under a very large foot provided a welcome distraction. Steve spun round, reaching for his guns even before he saw the three Trolls stepping into the clearing. The world slowed to a crawl around him as he let his mind slip into bullet time. The first Troll was greeted with perfectly placed bullets through its eyes, mouth and kneecaps which caused it to topple over with a bellow of pain. Steve then finished it off by emptying his guns into the beast's forehead, forming a stylized S with the bullet holes, while the other two were still lumbering around it.

Rather than waste time trying to reload, he swept his katana from its sheath and over his head in one flowing motion that perfectly intercepted an incoming club. The two-foot-thick tree branch was neatly bisected by the parry, leaving the bemused Troll holding a useless stump. Steve stepped inside its guard and made a deep horizontal cut across its stomach that spilled its guts wide open, even as he drew his wakizashi with his free hand and expertly sliced through the hamstrings of its raised foot. A second cut from the katana hamstrung its other leg as well, which put it out of the fight.

The last Troll bellowed angrily and brought down the boulder it wielded to crush Steve, but he ducked under the blow with contemptuous ease. As the Troll tried to tug the boulder out of the crater it had left in the ground where he had been standing, he jumped onto and ran up its arm onto its shoulder. Crossing his blades, he sliced both of them through its neck, which all but decapitated it, then leapt from the corpse as it collapsed in a spray of black blood. Steve rolled in mid-air and landed in a half-kneeling crouch, sweeping the blood from his weapons in the same motion.

The Troll he had crippled earlier was trying to pull itself towards him, trailing blood and internal organs behind it and growling intermittently. Steve calmly sheathed his swords, walked over to his discarded guns, ejected the spent clips and inserted new ones in a few swift motions, then turned to face the Troll. He mentally paged through his arsenal of quips for two seconds, then nodded and raised the Desert Eagles gangsta style. "Troll this!" he shouted, and blew the creature's brains out with a six-shot volley, before blowing on the gunbarrels and turning away to break camp. It looked like he'd be arriving at Rivendell a little earlier than he'd expected.

***

Dawn saw him overlooking the Ford of Brinning, or whatever it was supposed to be called. Deciding not to risk getting the engine wet while it was running (it had been making less than happy noises for a while now, probably because the roads here were so badly maintained), Steve dismounted and began wheeling his motorbike across the ford. He was very much looking forward to a proper bed, a hot bath, some Elvish cuisine and perhaps some hot Elf chicks to talk to. Indeed, assuming she wasn't out kicking ass, he might even run into Arwen at Rivendell, which would give him a chance to start charming her.

An ominous rumbling sound interrupted his train of thought. He turned and gaped as he saw a wall of water heading towards him at a speed too great for even him to do anything about it. He was slammed into the side of his bike as they were both swept away, cracking his skull and knocking him out.

***

Steve came to, wet and battered, with a sharp pain in the back of his head and what felt like his ribs digging into places they shouldn't. He tried to move, but his limbs refused to move properly, like that time he had drunk Misato Katsuragi under the table. A dark grey blob on a lightish grey background loomed over him, other dark grey blobs moving around behind it. They were talking, but he couldn't understand any of it.

"_Boe hon nestad!_"

"Urrrgh..." Steve offered as his opening conversational gambit.

"Do not move. We will treat your wounds."

The grey blobs continued talking to each other in gibberish. One of the closer ones, its voice louder and more high-pitched than the rest, said: "_Polinny envynutes__, Glorfindel!_"

"_Goheno nin Ringalingalass__ë__, le __ú__-chenion._" said the nearest blob.

"_Felinny f__air__ as__ya__ me see. Alassinyo, lavvy__ lindanyo envynutes!_"

The first blob finally went back to speaking a language Steve could understand. "One day I must learn where your language is from, Ringalingalassë, but for now, let us speak the Common Tongue. Now, what did you say?"

"I said, in Elvish, that I sense this man has a kind soul; he means us no harm. Please let me heal him with my powers!"

"You may assist if you wish."

"_Yay! Hatta nyo!_"

Steve chose this moment to pass out again.

***

He awoke in a bed, so that was one out of four. And there was a hot Elf chick sitting beside it, so that was two out of four before he'd even said hello! The chick in question was slender and delicate-looking, dressed in white. Her shining golden hair fell around her face as she sat with her head bowed, eyes closed. and hands clasped, speaking softly to herself.

"_Nayo meimi quinyo...anta renyo tenno...ma meruvayo tenno?_"

"What's that, babe?" Steve sat up in bed, noticing as he did so that he was just in his boxers. Even better!

"Oh!" The Elf looked up, then blushed. "You are awake!"

"Damn straight."

"How...how do you feel?"

Steve stretched luxuriantly to both test and show off his muscles. He felt no pain in his head, in his side or anywhere else. "All better, babe. How long was I out for?"

"It has been a day and a half since you were brought here. I am glad you are well now."

"Yeah, you fixed me up real good. I'll have to find a way to make it up to you." Steve caught her small hand between both of his and kissed it gently, causing her to turn from pink to scarlet.

"Oh my...that...that is not necessary. It was a pleasure to sing my healing song for you."

"Healing song? That an Elf thing?"

"It is a secret of my people, the Song Elves. I sang it while Lord Elrond bandaged your wounds, then held vigil over you last night."

"L. Ron? So this is Rivendell, then?"

"Yes. I am but a guest here, myself – I journeyed in search of...someone...but that is not important." The girl sniffed and sat up abruptly, heading for the door. "Pray excuse me a moment, I must send word that you are awake." She opened the door and spoke to someone outside it in what Steve guessed was probably Elvish.

"Nasa quiver. Alassinyo, nyoro Elrond-sama."

"_Man pennil?_"

"In the name of...I said, our guest is awake! Kindly tell Lord Elrond!" She slammed the door, and returned to her seat by the bed, sniffing again and pushing her hair back from her face as she did so. This gave Steve a chance to get a better look at her, and he liked what he saw. She had big violet eyes and a little button nose, set in such a cute face that he had an urge to pinch her ivory cheeks. Her dress was made of something wispy and translucent that floated tantalizingly around her body.

"So how'd I get here, anyway? Last I remember, I got punched in the face by a river."

"Oh...that was a misunderstanding. Lord Elrond took you for an invader and raised a flood against you as a defence."

A lightbulb went off in Steve's head as he remembered a scene from the first movie. "Right! Like those black metal guys. But I ain't an invader, babe, don't know how he got that idea."

"Oh, I knew that as soon as I laid eyes on you. Your heart is filled with light and song, not with darkness." She leaned over and grabbed his hand, eyes shining, and Steve raised an eyebrow. Was this chick for real? She seemed to realize what she was doing and half-jumped several feet away, blushing again. "I am sorry. I have been so bold, and yet I do not even know your name."

"Well, that's easily remedied, babe. It's Steve Steel. What's yours?"

"I am Ringalingalassë Namarië Fireblossom, Princess of the Seventh Chord."

"Very pleased to meet you, Ringalingalassë." Steve sketched a bow and gave her The Grin. She fainted.

***

Some time later, Steve sat in Elrond's study, a situation that reminded him uncomfortably of being sent to the principal's office...no, wait, that wasn't right, where had that thought come from? He had never been to school, firstly because he was too cool for it and secondly because he had been raised by fire-breathing robot velociraptors on Venus. Anyway, after sorting out a slight misunderstanding surrounding his attempt to revive Ringalingalassë with CPR, he had been brought here by the guards. Elrond had been quite apologetic about the whole large body of water to the face business – apparently Steve's aura was so badass (he didn't really understand the words Elrond used, but that seemed to be the gist of it) that they'd assumed he must be a dragon or something.

Two other Elves, named Gloria and Erection (or something like that) were also present, but they hadn't said much until Elrond moved on to the reason for Steve's presence. He obviously wasn't about to let on that he wanted the Ring for himself, so he had spun a story about wanting to catch up to the Fellowship and save them from all the stuff he knew they were going to run into, like Christopher Lee dropping an avalanche on them, a tentacle monster, a zillion goblins and the Balor. That got them excited, and they spent a lot of time trying to find out how he knew so much. He managed to act all mysterious and spin a tale about seeing visions, which they were so impressed by they invited him to stay longer so he could explain things some more. Steve agreed, figuring he could sneak out of this place pretty easily if he got bored or impatient. At last, Elrond dismissed the other two Elves, but asked Steve to stay for one last thing.

"Finally..." Elrond frowned. "I understand that Ringalingalassë was with you when you awoke."

"Yeah, that's right. She's been takin' good care of me."

"Indeed, it seems she has become attached to you." Steve grinned modestly. "I must ask that you treat her with kindness. She is...unusual, and very precipitous in bestowing her affections. Her heart is very fragile and recently hurt; please excuse her ardour."

"No problem, man!" Steve replied, giving a thumbs up. He wondered what 'precipitous' and 'ardour' meant.

***

"Oh my! That sounds terrifying!" Ringalingalassë exclaimed, clutching Steve's arm more tightly. She had taken him on a tour of the house and gardens, and in return he had told her about some of his adventures. He was now in the middle of recounting his run-in with an Imperial Star Destroyer, which had occurred just after he and the Sailor Scouts had escaped from the asteroid where they had been marooned for six months by Cutler Beckett.

"Nah, it wasn't so tough. Once I found a weak spot in their fighter defences and rammed the ship into one of their landing bays, getting to the bridge and threatening the captain to call off the attack was pretty easy. Course, I had help," he added modestly. "The girls did a great job keeping the stormtroopers off my back and blasting through the security doors." He didn't mention that the reason some of the Scouts had displayed such spectacular power was that they were carrying his children at the time – he had skated over the details of what they had all been up to during those six months on the asteroid.

"You are too humble," Ringalingalassë said, shaking her head. "I have no such great adventures to tell of...this is the first time I have left my home in the East. Truth be told, I almost wish I had not ventured forth."

"Why's that, babe?" Steve asked, not really listening. He had just noticed something more interesting at one of the large windows looking onto the garden from a sunlounge-like room on the ground floor.

"Well...I journeyed here in search of my true love, the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf. I had seen his face and spoken his name in my dreamsongs, and I thought that we were destined to be together forever. But..."

Steve tuned Ringalingalassë out entirely at this point – her drippy rambling was starting to get on his nerves, and any conversation with the word 'Legolas' in it couldn't possibly be as interesting as what he could see through the window. It was a dark-haired woman sitting at a desk-shaped frame working with a needle and thread on something he couldn't see. Her fingers continually moved swiftly and deftly, but otherwise she was very still, focused intently on her work. All the female Elves he had glimpsed around Rivendell were sleek, graceful and beautiful in a classy way, but this one took it to a whole new level, leaving Ringalingalassë and all the rest in the dust. She was the hottest chick Steve had ever seen - which was saying something.

Had Steve been a poet, he might have written whole epics on the subject of the play of the winter sunlight shining through the trees on her fair skin, or the faint starlight in her grey eyes, or a thousand other things about her. Sadly, he was not, so he settled for saying "Hubba hubba. Who's that?"

"Ah?" Ringalingalassë started, then looked where he pointed. "Oh, that is Lady Arwen, Lord Elrond's daughter. I feel for her as a sister, for she too suffers the pain of sundering from her beloved. I have tried to ease her sorrow with my singing, but she prefers to be alone with her grief. As I was saying, Legolas told me kindly that he could not return my love. At first, I thought it was because he was about to go into great peril and wished to spare me pain, but now I see that I was mistaken. My love for him was only meant to lead me to you. Steve? Steve, where are you? _Mai tai...? Ah! San willya!_"

Behind a tree, Steve smirked to himself as he heard Ringalingalassë trip over the log he had left in his place. He had learned that instant-disappearing trick from some ninjas - it was perfect for dodging chicks who couldn't take a hint. While Ringalingalassë was occupied picking herself up, rubbing her grazed knee and whining, he sneaked further into the garden then looped round back towards the house. It was time to introduce himself to one of his future wives.

***

After getting lost twice, he eventually managed to find his way to the sunlounge. The door was open, and Arwen was so intent on what she was doing that she didn't notice him come in. He took a moment to admire her a little longer while she continued to work (on some sort of black flag which she was embroidering) before deploying one of his arsenal of chat-up lines.

"How you doin', babe?"

"I beg your pardon?" Even her voice was stunning, Steve noted as she turned to look at him. He switched on That Grin and changed tactics, bowing gallantly.

"Greetings, m'lady. I'm Steve Steel, a guest of your father's. I just wanted to introduce myself."

"Ah, yes. Good afternoon, Master Steel. I hope you are recovered from your injuries."

"Oh, everything's in full working order, m'lady, you can be sure of that."

"Good."

There was a distinct pause. This wasn't going too well. Maybe she was playing hard to get, Steve thought. "So...whatcha workin' on?" He gestured to the embroidery frame.

"It is a banner to be carried into battle against Mordor, bearing the emblems of Elendil."

"Right, right...so...your boyfriend Argon's away on a quest. That's gotta suck." Arwen's expression visibly softened, and Steve mentally patted himself on the back. "Not to worry, though. I know all the dangers they're gonna face thanks to my, uh, visions, and I'm gonna catch up to them and make sure they make it through!"

She smiled, and nukes went off in Steve's head. "That is good to hear."

Encouraged, he pressed on. "Y'know, though, I don't think that guy deserves you. I mean, he goes off all the time and leaves you here doing sewing; sounds to me like he doesn't really appreciate you. A girl like you deserves a guy who at least knows how to shave properly and can give you...constant attention." Her face was starting to redden – with passion, no doubt. He reached out and stroked her cheek with one finger. Her skin was delightfully soft. "You should kick that loser to the curb and-"

Arwen pushed his hand away and rose to her feet in one swift movement. "You are a guest, Master Steel, so I shall excuse your words this time. Please leave me be and cease slandering the name of one you clearly know nothing of, or I shall become angry."

Rejection was not something Steve was accustomed to. He suppressed his anger and gave her a nonchalant smile. "Don't worry babe, you'll feel different once I take the One Ring and make myself emperor. You can even be head queen." All the colour abruptly drained from Arwen's face, and Steve realized what he had just said. "Oh crap."

"You are either mad or a fool." She backed away from him towards the far door.

"Uh, that came out wrong-"

"Whether you speak from ignorance or evil, you are dangerous. You cannot be allowed to leave."

Now Steve really was getting angry. "Now listen here, you-" He was interrupted someone burst through the door behind Arwen – it was Ringalingalassë, dragging behind her the blond elf named Gloria that Steve had met earlier. Ringalingalassë was covered in dirt and leaves, her face streaked with tears.

"There he is, Glorfindel! _Feuer lin, Steve!_"

"What did you do to Ringalingalassë, Steve?" Glorfindel – that was it – demanded. "I found her in the garden weeping and cursing your name."

"Glorfindel, he is dangerous – he spoke of his desire to take the One Ring and become a tyrant." Arwen said urgently.

"Steve, is this true?!" Ringalingalassë cried. "Are you evil?" She put her hands over her face and began to sob.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Geez, grow up, babe. Evil's just a state of mind."

Glorfindel's eyes narrowed. "I see. I must ask you to come with me, Steve – you will be confined to your quarters until this matter is resolved."

"No way, dude. I go where I please."

"Then you shall be confined by force." Glorfindel managed to extricate his hand from Ringalingalassë's grip. The blond Elf approached Steve warily.

"Bring it, man." Steve smirked as he assumed a combat stance. Glorfindel wasn't armed that he could see, so it would be mano a mano, and Steve could go mano with anyone's mano any day of the week. He had studied unarmed combat with many of the most renowned masters in the multiverse, then punched them all in the face. Just for extra coolness factor (there were two ladies watching, after all), he made a beckoning motion to the Elf. Ringalingalassë whimpered and turned away, clinging to Arwen and hiding her face in her shoulder.

And then he was suddenly dazzled as Glorfindel began to blaze with white light, becoming a terrifying figure that strode implacably towards him. The glare protection function of Steve's sunglasses tried and utterly failed to compensate, causing his vision to flicker crazily. A cold sweat broke out all over his body as he tried to maintain a defensive posture. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

The light of Glorfindel's aura became even brighter as he neared Steve, who was forced to look aside or be blinded. His eyes briefly met Arwen's, and saw only disappointment and disgust. A second later, Glorfindel's fist struck him in the face, shattering his sunglasses and hurling him halfway towards the door he had entered by. Steve took the hint, scrambled halfway to his feet and ran for it, shoving past several Elves standing in the corridor outside. It was time to blow this popsicle stand. The place was full of stuck-up lamers anyway. They'd be sorry one day, he promised himself angrily, clamping down on the niggling feeling that he'd screwed up badly.

***

Glorfindel felt sick to his stomach as he hastened to saddle Asfaloth in order to lead the pursuit. How could they have been so foolish? The stranger's approach to the borders of Imladris had been heralded by such dire portents that it had seemed certain that they were under attack from some terrible minion of Sauron. All Glorfindel's well-honed instincts had warned him that danger threatened, a warning he should have heeded. Yet when the invader proved to be only an ordinary-seeming young Man, albeit one strangely attired and armed (armed much more heavily than at first glance, it seemed), he had been given the chance to prove himself friendly. Glorfindel now suspected, though, that even if Steve was indeed no servant of the Shadow, he nonetheless followed an evil path.

If his shamelessly expressed desire for the One Ring was not proof enough of this, there was his shocking discourtesy to Lady Arwen, his unforgivable treatment of Ringalingalassë and the violence of his escape once his secret was revealed. Three Elves had been injured in Steve's headlong flight, and three guards beaten unconscious and two more grievously injured in the legs by some strange weapon when they tried to stop him retrieving his possessions. To cover his flight, he had then set a fire of extraordinary ferocity, which took Lord Elrond's every effort to keep from devouring the entire building.

Glorfindel glimpsed Ringalingalassë being carried across the courtyard towards the healers' chambers, and narrowed his eyes in fury. The poor, confused maiden had been cruelly used by that wretch; he should never have been allowed near her. She was regarded with a mixture of pity and exasperation by most in Rivendell for her odd behaviour, but if, as seemed likely, she was truly injured in her mind, that was no fault of hers. He hoped that one day the healers would be able to do something for her.

Ringalingalassë opened her eyes as she was carried past Glorfindel, and feebly extended her hand towards him. He signalled to the stretcher-bearers to stop, kneeling down to let her speak. Her face was wet with tears.

"Glorfindel..."

"Hush," he replied. "You are safe."

"Steve..." she whispered, as more tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

"He will be hunted down," he assured her. "He shall cause no more harm. Waste no tears on such a creature."

She nodded and sniffed, and he stood up. A swift look round the courtyard assured him that the pursuit party was all but ready. He swung up into the saddle, eager to be off.

"_Mary fairy, Glorfindel!_" Ringalingalassë called as she was carried away. He raised a hand in farewell and smiled to reassure her before speaking to Asfaloth who broke into a trot that rapidly became a gallop as they led fifty mounted Elves out of the courtyard and down the road to hunt Steve down.

"_Nayo meimi quinyo, Glorfindel..._" Ringalingalassë whispered as she watched the riders recede into the distance.

**MORE MARY SUE MADNESS TO COME IN**

"**THE LAND OF EYE SHADOW"**

**Translations From The (Fangirl) Elvish**

Ringalingalassë's "Elvish" dialogue, for the curious, is Quenya (High-Elven) mangled almost beyond recognition (in many cases, by making it sound more like Japanese). Here are the phrases she uses above, translated into the original Quenya and hence into English. The Quenya I mangled to get the 'Ringalinglish' was not 100% correct, being constructed from phrase- and wordlists found at the website of FFN user dreamingfifi and other sites linked from there. The Quenya given below has been corrected with dreamingfifi's assistance.

"Polinny envynutes, Glorfindel!" = "Polin envinyatas, Laurefindo!"= "I can heal him, Glorfindel!"

"Felinny fair asya me see. Alassinyo, lavvy lindanyo envynutes!" = "Felin milya fëa sessë. Alassenyan, á lavë lindenya envinyatas!" = "I sense a kind soul within him. Please let my song heal him!"

"Hatta nyo!" = "Hantanyel!" = "Thank you!"

"Nayo meimi quinyo...anta renyo tenno...ma meruvayo tenno?" = "Nalyë melmë cuilenyava...antan órenya tyenna...ma meluvalyen tenn'oio?" = "You are the love of my life...I give you my heart...will you love me for eternity?" (Yes, Ringalingalassë jumps to conclusions this fast on meeting someone. See also her last line.)

"Nasa quiver. Alassinyo, nyoro Elrond-sama." = "Nasse cuiva. Alassenyan, á nyarë Hér-Elenrondon" = "He is awake. Please tell Lord Elrond."

"Mai tai...? Ah! San willya!" = "Ma ta...? Ah! Sa nwalya!" = "What's that...? Ah! It hurts!"

"Feuer lin, Steve!" = "Feuya len, Steve!" = "You disgust me, Steve!"

"Mary fairy, Glorfindel!" = "Mára farië, Laurefindo!" = "Good hunting, Glorfindel!"

"Nayo meimi quinyo, Glorfindel..." = "Nalyë melmë cuilenyava, Laurefindo..." = "You are the love of my life, Glorfindel..."

Translations of the Sindarin phrases used by other characters above are given below. These were taken from dreamingfifi's website.

"Boe hon nestad!" = "He needs healing!"

"Man pennil?" = "What did you say?"


	3. Interlude: The Land of Eye Shadow

**Disclaimer:** Characters, concepts etc. are the property of the Tolkien family, New Line Cinema, _et al_. No copyright infringement is intended.

**The Awesome Adventures of Steve Steel: Steve of the Rings**

**Interlude: The Land of Eye Shadow**

In a luxurious suite of rooms high in the Dark Tower, in the land of Mordor, a girl was washing blood from under her fingernails. Princess Raven of Angmar sighed in relief as she dug out the last stubborn remains of the recalcitrant Haradrim prince whose throat she had cut a few hours earlier, and relaxed back into the hot bath scented with black rose petals she had ordered her slaves to draw for her when she returned. The successful mission brought her no true pleasure, only mild relief at having some peace and quiet for a while to brood over the meaninglessness of her existence.

Raven was the daughter of the Witch-King of Angmar, Lord of the Nazgul, and one of his concubines (the biological mechanics of the interbreeding of a human and a Ringwraith are left to the reader's imagination). Normally such a child would be fed to the Orcs as a worthless nothing, but Sauron had sensed useful qualities in Raven and had her raised as his servant. Since she had grown old enough, she had served him well as a spy and assassin, her unnatural powers and seductive beauty making her highly adept at ferreting out information from and delivering a swift or lingering death to anyone who might be an obstacle to the Dark Lord's plans. It was a rewarding life in terms of opportunities to enjoy luxury and mayhem (two things Raven delighted in), but marred by her being constantly at her master's beck and call. If she could break free of the hold her Wraith blood granted him over her, she would gladly exchange it for a life where she could exercise her talents fully and on her own behalf, rather than for a cause and master she cared nothing for.

Take this latest mission, for example. Arkhan, prince of Harkuk, had been making noises about withdrawing his city and others from the league with Mordor and summoning his soldiers home to till their fields and dandle their children on their knees. It had been a simple matter for Raven to enter his chambers and pose as a sympathetic agent of Gondor, or the Elves, or the White Council – there had been no need to be specific. After a flagon or two of wine – suitably spiced – Raven had easily inveigled herself into his bed, where she had endured his pathetic notions of pleasurable exercise and endless mewlings about his fears for his people, before he had finally let slip the names of his co-conspirators. As per her orders, rather than simply slitting his throat while he slept she had revealed herself as his executioner before killing him, which she might have welcomed had he put up an entertaining fight. As it was, he merely begged for his life on his knees, weeping as she drove the knife home. As if she cared what happened to his wives and brats when he was gone! She had been tempted to slaughter some of them out of spite, but decided against it – it might too far exceed her orders, and would be a messy and exasperating chore.

_RAVEN. I HAVE NEED OF YOUR SKILLS ONCE AGAIN._

Groaning in irritation at the summons, Raven pulled herself out of the bath with a splash and snapped her fingers for her slaves to come and dry her. Determined to keep her master waiting as long as she dared, she took her time admiring herself in one of the full-length mirrors before ordering her clothes and weapons brought. Her unusual paternal heritage, combined with the rare beauty of her mother (who had been purchased from a market somewhere far to the East), had made of her a unique, exotic and infinitely alluring creature. Her flawless skin was a soft pearl-white which glowed in dim light like captive moonbeams. The lines of her lithe, strong and deadly form were softened by curves in just the right places. She languidly stretched her limber joints, producing an effect many men would happily die to witness (and, on some occasions, had done).

The slaves brushed and combed her waist-length, glossy, midnight-black hair and applied her makeup before starting on her clothing. Touches of black on the lips and around the eyes, with slashes of the same colour underneath her eyes, accentuated her high cheekbones and added to the currently desired effect of her face's beauty. Combined with her state of unsated anger, it leant her a feral, sullen look like an eagle or leopard deprived of its prey. With her face unmarked and her expression properly schooled, however, she could appear as the most innocent of maidens, the most guilelessly eager of wenches, or whatever else she desired. All men thought they saw their heart's desire in her eyes, not knowing that her own heart was frozen and filled with nothing but contempt for them. Such thoughts turned her mood melancholic once again, and she shut her eyes to the reflection as her silk and leather garments were fastened around her. When she had answered Sauron's summons, perhaps she would write another poem about the dreariness of existence.

_RAVEN!_

She bit back a retort that might have lost her her tongue (a valuable asset in more ways than one), and slapped the nearest slave to make the fools hurry up. Once her hair had been hastily braided, she checked her sleeves and pockets and verified that her considerable arsenal of visible and hidden blades was as it should be. As soon as the last buckles on her high boots had been fastened, she kicked the kneeling slavegirl who had performed the task out of her path and strode towards the door, head held haughtily high. Her master awaited, and if she could not go against him (yet), she would at least make it clear that she was no mindlessly servile creature.

***

Raven knelt before Sauron's throne – he would have no less even from the most independent-minded of his servants. She refused to lower her eyes as more subservient beings would, however, instead forcing herself to keep her gaze focused unwaveringly on him. Waves of pain, nausea and unreasoning terror beat at her for every second she looked on his form, but she considered it a small price to pay.

"RAVEN. YOU TRY MY PATIENCE."

"How so, my Lord?" Raven asked in her sweetest voice. "Have I failed to complete any task you have given me? You ordered me into your presence, and here I am. You ordered the prince of Harkuk slain in his bed as a warning to his fellows, and it is done without incident. He could not even provide me with any worthy sport before he died." She tossed her head to show her disdain for the paltry task.

The Dark Tower trembled faintly as Sauron shifted on his throne. "NO MATTER. I HAVE A NEW TASK FOR YOU." He raised the four remaining fingers of his right hand from the crystal sphere that sat at his side. "OBSERVE."

Mist swirled within the Palantír, then cleared to reveal the aftermath of a battle. Dead and dying Orcs and Wargs, a hundred at least, were strewn across a rocky hillside. A lone man in a long black garment moved among them, calmly finishing off those who still lived with an oddly curved sword. The image shifted to focus on him as he decapitated a Warg that was struggling to pull itself onto its three remaining feet. Raven watched the warrior with interest – the mercilessly efficient way he killed, coupled with a certain elegant and gleeful showiness, reminded her of herself.

"THIS BEING HAS ENTERED MIDDLE-EARTH THROUGH UNKNOWN MEANS. HE COULD BE A VALUABLE SERVANT TO ME, OR A HINDRANCE. YOU WILL WIN HIS TRUST AND DISCOVER HIS GOALS, AND KILL HIM IF I DEEM IT NECESSARY. DO NOT FAIL."

In the Palantír, the warrior turned so that Raven could see his face for the first time. She momentarily forgot to breathe as he grinned fiercely and sheathed his sword. The wind blew his hair back fetchingly and moulded the fabric of his black shirt and trousers against his well-muscled form. This, she thought, might at last be a mission she could take pleasure in.

"As you command, my Lord! Where should I seek for this being?"

"HE SEEKS TO CROSS THE MISTY MOUNTAINS. MAKE ALL HASTE TO INTERCEPT HIM WHILE HE IS ALONE. YOU MAY TAKE SYCORAX TO SPEED YOUR JOURNEY."

Raven smiled with genuine delight as she bowed and left the throne room. Minutes later, she was soaring high above the plain of Gorgoroth on her valiant steed, Sycorax, the one being she truly cared for or that cared for her. Sycorax was the mother of the Fellbeasts who would soon provide mounts for the Nazgûl, but far stronger, more intelligent and especially more beautiful than them all. Her hide was a glossy black like her mistress' heart, her eyes blood-red, and her wings an iridescent purple. Raven stroked the beloved creature's neck as they banked around Mount Doom, and thought pleasant thoughts about maiming irritating people and all the ways she could gain the strange, handsome and fierce warrior's confidence.

**TO BE CONTINUED IN**

"**TWO IS COMPANY..."**


End file.
